Almost done
My time in Israel is winding down. I've finished most of my research, which involved mostly surveys and taking GPS coordinates in Tel al-saba and Lakiya, two recognized Bedouin towns near Bersheva. I've been able to travel all around Israel and a bit in the West Bank, as well as visiting Jordan and going back to Cairo again. My Mom is coming to visit in 11 days, then I'll be back in Michigan around August 12th, and down to Atlanta on August 17th.
In the middle east, there are constant arguments about what a government is doing, about politics and wars, about zionism and refugees and inequality, about settlements and food shortages and religion. And in all of this, the people get lost.
At one point, an American Jew who now lives in Jerusalem invited me over for shabbat dinner. He and his wife let me into their apartment with great hospitality. Upon hearing I was working with Bedouins, they reminded me to keep my stuff locked up, as Bedouins are thieves. After all, they are squatting on land owned by Israel. I explained that many Bedouins have houses and vehicles. Probably stolen vehicles, they informed me.
A month later, I found myself sitting on the ground outside of a Bedouin house in Lakiya with about 30 other men, enjoying a dinner of lamb in a milk sauce. I felt the same hospitality as I had felt in Jerusalem - strangers opening their home to me, sharing their food and thoughts with me. Upon hearing that I was living on a kibbutz, they reminded me that the land of Southern Israel is Bedouin land, and Israelis have been stealing and partitioning it for 60 years. There was talk of the wall, of starvation in gaza, of Bedouins with no access to health care.
And through it all, the people are lost. There is no recognition of the individual. It's the Jews, the Arabs, the Bedouins, the Russians, the Settlers. I want to take the American Jew living in Jerusalem and sit him down with the Bedouin in Lakiya. I want them to sit and discuss their families. Not politics, not religion. I want them to talk about the simplicities in life, the bond of family, the way they both serve guests scalding hot sugary Lipton tea and slices of red watermelon piled on a plate with a fork balanced precariously on the side. I want them to forget about territories and missiles and ideology, and see the humanity in each others eyes.
For now, I live on Jewish kibbutz and work in Bedouin villages. These places are not populated with individuals, but only with stereotypes.
In the middle east, there are constant arguments about what a government is doing, about politics and wars, about zionism and refugees and inequality, about settlements and food shortages and religion. And in all of this, the people get lost.
At one point, an American Jew who now lives in Jerusalem invited me over for shabbat dinner. He and his wife let me into their apartment with great hospitality. Upon hearing I was working with Bedouins, they reminded me to keep my stuff locked up, as Bedouins are thieves. After all, they are squatting on land owned by Israel. I explained that many Bedouins have houses and vehicles. Probably stolen vehicles, they informed me.
A month later, I found myself sitting on the ground outside of a Bedouin house in Lakiya with about 30 other men, enjoying a dinner of lamb in a milk sauce. I felt the same hospitality as I had felt in Jerusalem - strangers opening their home to me, sharing their food and thoughts with me. Upon hearing that I was living on a kibbutz, they reminded me that the land of Southern Israel is Bedouin land, and Israelis have been stealing and partitioning it for 60 years. There was talk of the wall, of starvation in gaza, of Bedouins with no access to health care.
And through it all, the people are lost. There is no recognition of the individual. It's the Jews, the Arabs, the Bedouins, the Russians, the Settlers. I want to take the American Jew living in Jerusalem and sit him down with the Bedouin in Lakiya. I want them to sit and discuss their families. Not politics, not religion. I want them to talk about the simplicities in life, the bond of family, the way they both serve guests scalding hot sugary Lipton tea and slices of red watermelon piled on a plate with a fork balanced precariously on the side. I want them to forget about territories and missiles and ideology, and see the humanity in each others eyes.
For now, I live on Jewish kibbutz and work in Bedouin villages. These places are not populated with individuals, but only with stereotypes.